


And you feel like home/Where the sunflowers bloom

by orphan_account



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Acceptance, Autistic Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), Cecil Might be Human or Inhuman, Cecil is Described (Welcome to Night Vale), Character Study, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Nonbinary Cecil Palmer, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Trans Carlos, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22898752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Carlos have always felt...odd. Out of the "normal", the "ordinary", his whole life. Until he meets a certain someone and get whisked away to a certain town, and lives through certain adventures. And finds his place.Or: Carlos musing about how he met Cecil for the first time, and how he learned to accept himself: not beacuse you need to get saved by a significant other, but beacuse your loved ones are here to help you on your journey.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	And you feel like home/Where the sunflowers bloom

Carlos was always, in his whole life, considered as “weird”. First, for being someone different from the person he was told he is by the doctors when he was born. A fat trans man, born into an immigrant latinx family, who was diagnostised with autism in his preteens. Most of the diagnosis contained harmful neurotypical phrases, things he learned were harmful later, and he’s still incredibly glad his mother listened to him and not to the judgemental looking “professionals”. That woman is amazing, his hero, and his safe place for many years, until he felt good enough in his skin to stand up for himself. A heritage from her. He came out to her, she did her best to raise him well, and how he needed, not how the world told Carlos he needs to be. His two adult sisters, one in college, the other one is at the beginning of it, were nothing but supportive also. And now, he had him. Cecil Palmer, the love of his life, his partner in...everything. Their first meeting was nothing, but endorphins, and other hormones about attraction. Someone more sentimental might have called it love at first sight. Cecil would probably start to muse about Destiny.   
  
\- Hellooooo... – said a deep and sultry voice, giving away the impression of half-lidded eyes and the rasp of sleep. The same voice which rumbled from a radio in a really-really strange shop Carlos passed. Although, more professional and less rich on air. The scientist startled a bit, and turned around quickly, trying to morph his facial expression into something “appropriate”.  
\- Uhm, hi. – Carlos said, but somehow his half-smile felt natural to be on his face. Like, he doesn’t need to school his everything so the neurotypical world will at least predent to understand him on the surface. The person in front of him was taller than him, with well-sculpted muscles and a natural grace, of course. But they weren’t “perfect” either: they were leaning on an elegant cane from dark wood, with shiny, silvery head, slightly upsetting purple, black and white mess of eyes painted on it. And glitter stickers. As Carlos took a look, trying to not to stare too much or avert his gaze, because he know from experience that both were disrespectful, one of the eyes seemed to be blink at him. Must be the desert heat getting into his mind. The person had dark skin, darker than his own, and long purple locks put up into a bun. Their eyes were...hard to describe, and not only because of their fashionable purple glasses. They wore a short sleeved shirt with big flowers, knee length grey baggy shorts with black Zeppelins on it, some sunny yellow sneakers looking like Converse without the capitalism, and mismatched socks, which might bother Carlos when he had less tolerance for the world being out of order, but not now. The sock with the third eyed Sphinx cats matched the rainbow one well. They had a pierced septum, and a lot of tattoos on the strong forearms (for the love of Marie Curie, a strong forearm with rolled up sleeves were Carlos' weakness since he realised he's a dude liking different people than he was supposed to like), all purple, geometric shapes what were good to look at, and tentacles and eyes which were a little bit less soothing, unlike the stranger’s brilliant smile.  
\- My name is Cecil. Cecil Palmer. I'm the community radio host for Night Vale. The one and only. Pronouns are he/him/his or they/them/theirs. - Cecil said with a brilliant smile, leaning on his cane like a trickster god. Did one of his eye tattoos really blinked, or...? It must be the desert heat again. He needs to get into the cool soon. Or shed his lab coat, someone would say, someone who is not Carlos, and doesn't know how much comfort he gets from this single piece of clothing. It symbolises how far he has come, and how...valuable he is. If for his knowledge, not for this whole bundle he is, then, let it be. It also shows that the world is knowledgeable. Something he will muse about a lot in the oncoming weeks of his life. But for now, he blushed, and scratched the back of his neck, mumbling in Spanish. Cecil waited patiently. And didn't force eye contact. Carlos was endlessly thankful for this supposed to be standard behaviour.  
\- And my name is uhm...Carlos. He/him/his. - he blurted out.  
\- It's nice to meet you. Would you like to go into some shelter? Not that we are ever sheltered from the holy eye of the Glow Cloud- all hail -. But you look overheated. And NO, WE'RE NOT DOING ANYTHING ILLEGAL. -Cecil emphasised, like he wanted to shout but were thoughtful for Carlos. This didn’t feel patronizing. He wasn't treated like he was fragile; he was treated with basic respect. His needs considered and respected, with his boundaries, neither of these seem as something out of the ordinary. Like he did with Cecil, or anyone else. And, if he needed some help, who didn't? Cecil needed too, especially on bad pain days. Josie needed too when she missed her husband too much, the Faceless Old Woman needed help with technology, Dana if her hearing was worse today. The Man in the tan suit had insomnia, and Carlsberg wasn't that bad after he got his PTSD diagnostised, and he worked on it with therapy and medication. They all needed a bit more help sometimes. And that was okay. It was all okay. The town took care of them in her odd ways, and they all belonged there, somewhere for the misfits like them, who might have gotten spit out in the Outside World.

**Author's Note:**

> My first work, please enjoy. I have soo many fanfiction ideas, but high school is *trash*. Will deliver them, and more fics in this universe later. :)


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